Guest

Sequelising the work of

Title of original

Episode no

Editor

Title of sequel

1

Amy Sutton

Claudia Treacher

Ecstasy

01

Paul Davies

Debut

2

Joshua Crisp

Amy Sutton

Justice

02

Tom McNally

Counter-Justice

3

Paul Davies

Joshua Crisp

Untitled

01

Claudia Treacher

Still

4

Claudia Treacher

Tom McNally

1 Swiss Court, Leicester Square

02

Amy Sutton

31 Weeks

5

Tom McNally

Paul Davies

The Machine

04

Joshua Crisp

Abandoned

Warm-up - up to thirty words, no title, prompt is: ‘day'

I haven't seen a day in years. I follow the rotation of the planet, piloting carefully to keep out of the daylight. Better for this line of work, I guess.

Warm-up - up to thirty words, no title, prompt is: ‘day'

It broke, inevitably, like fine china in a toddler’s hands.

Warm-up - up to thirty words, no title, prompt is: ‘day’

Day. Sometimes there is more of it, sometimes there is less of it. Sometimes you only see it as through a veil of rain. Sometimes it glows. Sometimes: snows.

Warm-up - up to thirty words, no title, prompt is: ‘day'

The deep-ink black turned blue, turned golden-red streaks, turned the stars softly-blotted from the sky, turned the moon in her bed to her faded cold-pillow side after her nightlong shine.

Warm-up - up to thirty words, no title, prompt is: 'day’

Every nuclear weapon on the planet merged into one divine purpose. The engines turned the world away from its spin. The cheer went up across the day-side. Night was gone.

Amy Sutton - sequelising Claudia Treacher

Original story

Ecstasy (s01e01)

“Bjork, we have a problem.” The besuited executive interrupted Bjork in her studio as she reached the climactic peak of the recording, her back to the door, hollering at the padded walls in ecstasy of her remembered nature.

“Why do you disturb me when I am in the company of the muses?” she asked.

“Projected record sales are down.” the executive responded, “marketing doesn’t like it.”

Bjork twisted her neck to face the executive, and as he stood immobile in shock, she bore her hundred gaping eye sockets upon him. Her tendrils throttled him to death. The assistant technician fled.

Amy Sutton - First draft

 Untitled???

The executive stalked down the hall like a pissed-off alligator. Jane from the agency followed, babbling. "You don't understand, sir, you really mustn't interrupt her during her session-"

"Three months she's been signed to our label, and from what I see, she's been taking my money and producing jack and shit. Isn't it customary for me to at least meet the artists when they join?"

"Well, when you say 'join', sir -" Jane squeaked.

"I mean, look at this rider!" he steamed, slapping the page in his hands. "Cow's blood? Crow eyeballs? What does she think I am, a moron?"

Word count: 99

Amy, your first editor is:  Paul Davies

Okay, title: Debut? (Bjork’s first album title. Or if you know a better Bjork album name?)

Comma after babbling, so the sentence introduces the dialogue rather than ending before it? Might make it more breathless, enacting the babble. I’d use an em dash to show the cutoff also: --

Is the final 100th word “Sir --” ?

It prepares us beautifully for the dickishness of the exec’s dialogue in Claudia’s original, and not at all for what happens with Bjork. Perfect.

(Is ‘Jane’ the best name? Can we imply more about her with a different choice?)

Amy Sutton - final draft

Debut

 The executive stalked down the hall like a pissed-off alligator. Magenta from the agency followed, babbling.

"Y-you don't understand, sir, you really mustn't interrupt her during her session --"

"Three months she's been signed to our label, and from what I see, she's been taking my money and producing jack and shit. Isn't it customary for me to at least meet these freeloaders when they join?"

"She's a deeply sensitive artist, sir!" Magenta squeaked.

"I mean, look at this rider!" he steamed, slapping the page in his hands. "Cow's blood? Crow eyeballs? What does she think I am, a moron?"

“Sir --”

Word count: 100

Amy Sutton - sequelising Amy Sutton

Justice (s01e02)

Anna-Marie leaned forward in her rocking chair and squinted out into the midday sun, deepening the scars on her berry-burnt face. She had felt the vibrations through her boots, heard the telltale sound, like gentle rain on a tarp. Now she could see the dust rising.

The giant cockroaches stampeded into the valley, riders whooping, dragging their prize behind them. The cockroaches chittered.

Melody, her golden teeth shining, threw the squirming bodybag at Anna-Marie’s feet.

“You get the meds she stole?” the old woman asked.

Melody looked grim.

“No matter. She’ll be good food for the roaches either way.”

Joshua Crisp - First draft

 Justice 2: Counter-Justice

“It were Melody and Anna Marie, Mary-Anne! They swooped right in and took your identical triplet, Anna-Maria!”

Mary-Anne’s eyes narrowed. Her no-good, yellow-bellied, evil triplet sister had gone too far this time. She turned to Harmony and spoke.

“We’re gunna go get them sumbitches and make ‘em pay. Saddle up our giant hedgehogs, and tell ‘em they’s eatin’ cockroach tonight!”

The flight of the valkyries thundered out from colossal speakers either side of their enormous hedgehog mount as they began the incredibly slow charge up the hill.

Word count: 86

Josh, your editor is:  Tom McNally

A subversion!

Title suggestion: Counter-Justice

Don’t think you need an ending, the punchline is sound. What you need is a beginning. Start with a mirror of Amy’s original, with a description of Mary-Anne’s face. Keep that po-faced so that the absurdity of the triplet stuff and hedgehogs melts in.

While that will swell your wordcount, there are plenty of cuts to be made in the speech. eg.

Mary-Anne’s eyes narrowed. Her no-good, yellow-bellied, evil triplet sister had gone too far this time. She turned to Harmony, quivering.

“We’re gunna go get them sumbitches. Tell the pricklies they’s eatin’ cockroach tonight!”

They mounted their enormous hedgehogs and The flight of the valkyries thundered out from colossal speakers either side as they began the incredibly slow charge up the hill.

Joshua Crisp - final draft

Counter-Justice

Mary Anne, spat a wadge of tobacco from her treacle-stained lips and surveyed the devastation. Harmony was helping injured people out of the smoking rubble of her town: now a mess of flapping canvas and bullet-riddled dirt.

Mary-Anne’s eyes narrowed. Her no-good, yellow-bellied, evil triplet sister had gone too far this time. She turned to Harmony, quivering.

“We’re gunna go get them sumbitches. Tell the pricklies they’s eatin’ roaches tonight!”

They saddled their enormous war hedgehogs and The flight of the valkyries thundered out from colossal flank-mounted speakers either side as they began the incredibly slow charge up the hill.

Word count: 100

Paul Davies - sequelising Joshua Crisp

Untitled (s01e01)

Birds were screaming. Trees ablaze for a hundred miles in each direction and the skies were filling fast with acrid smoke.

Desperate and dirty, Maria’s lungs clung to the inside of her chest as her sweat-drenched clothes hugged the outside.

She drew in a futile screech of air and whispercoughed her daughter’s name again.

It was raining, she noticed, as the jungle flashed around her. Each belching roar of flame seared the rain and tears from her shaven head.

Suddenly all was darkness. The smoke descended in a thick tide that smothered her like a child in a blazing crib.

Paul Davies - First draft

 Working title

Around her, the ashes. The birds had fallen silent, and all sound was hushed in the fallout.

Her feet left tiny prints in the blanket of still-warm grey. It was somehow humid. She coughed.

“Mama?” she croaked.

In the distance, stumps, clumps loomed. She took small steps, peering through tears. Had it moved?

A small vortex cleared just a little air up ahead of her. Something was there, crouched and shuddering.

She could see hair. Grey, like the blanket pulled around the form. Was it just the grey of those steady ashes?

She reached a hand toward the figure, tentative.

Word count: 100

Paul, your editor is:  Claudia Treacher

I love the tiny prints line! The humidity is a lovely detail to add after it. You conjure up some beautiful imagery and it follows on from Josh’s piece very well.

Some of the writing is a little minimalist? So I’d change the way the first line falls to make it flow better. Also the stumps/clumps line might do with just an ‘and’ in between to help flow? But that’s my personal preference.

I reckon if you want a strong ending, delete the last word (tentative).

It’s an eery and lovely piece and well done!

//Didn’t get the change of focalisation! Use ‘the girl’ instead of ‘she’?

Paul Davies - final draft

Still

Around the girl, the birds had fallen silent. All other sound was hushed in the falling of ash.

Her feet left tiny prints in the blanket of still-warm grey. It was somehow humid. She coughed.

“Mama?” she croaked.

In the distance, stumps and clumps loomed. She took small steps, peering through tears. Had it moved?

A small vortex cleared a little air up ahead of her. Something was there, crouched and shuddering.

She could see hair. Grey, like the blanket pulled around the form. Was it just the grey of those steady ashes?

She reached a hand toward the figure.

Word count: 100

Claudia Treacher - sequelising Tom McNally

Original story

1 Swiss Court, Leicester Square (s01e02)

“I’ve never done this before”
“With a customer?”
“With a human”
The customer traced a finger along the circumference of Red’s body, one full span of the arms

Red’s sugared cuticle unfurled and shucked to the floor

They stood, flesh revealed, ready to be worshipped as the god whose image was sold on bags and merchandise during shopping hours

The customer was pulled into a caress

Cool and tacky, brown stain coming away at the touch

The mating apparatus becoming achingly turgid

Charging down the escalator

Roaming golden in an obvious musth

She bellowed,
“The shoppers are mine alone, Red!”

Claudia Treacher - First draft

 31 Weeks

One mile away at the Royal Court, Ginger sat in angst transfixed by the computer monitor as the representatives of Mars, Incorporated illustrated her demise.

“The soft panning will likely go first,” their lawyer explained. “Her colour won’t last.”

Slide after slide fixed her at 6 months, then a year, then two, as they levelled accusations of toxicity and public health hazards.

“We are responsible for this item,” they said. “We have a duty to protect the public.”

“What about right to life?”

Ginger sobbed as she climbed back into the cold-prison of her fridge, desperately trying to stay alive.

Word count: 100

Claudia, your editor is:  Amy Sutton

Amy’s edits - ok, so I have no idea. I mean, I’m guessing by the title it’s like a pregnancy thing?

Who is Ginger? Not quite clear enough. If it’s the original customer maybe stick with that, if it’s an M&M or similar, find a way to make that clearer.

What is ‘soft panning’? Maybe a more layman’s term will suffice for clarity.

You could lose ‘fixed her at’ and have “Slide after slide: six months, a year, then two.”

Put the toxicity and public health hazard into the dialogue to save you on words.

Last line add ‘desperately trying to keep them both alive’. If I’m imagining this right. She’s in the fridge to try and keep the baby M&M monstrosity alive while trying not to die herself, right?

Eep. You got this.

Claudia Treacher - final draft

31 Weeks

9 months and 30 weeks later, Ginger sat in the Royal Court waiting miserably to hear the outcome of her shelf-life appeal.

The representatives of Mars, Incorporated were arguing for her demise.

“The sugar-coating will go first,” the lawyer explained. “Corporealization after birth has not lengthened the shelf-life of this item.”

She buried her orange face in her hands as they accused her desire to stay alive of endangering the public. It was a health hazard. They held the rights and liability.

She had none for herself.

Ginger sobbed as she contemplated her return to the cold-prison of her fridge.

Word count: 100

Tom McNally - sequelising Paul Davies

Original story

The Machine (s01e04)

Tiny men in the machine. They escort the machine. It moves, it shadows, it seeks. It targets.

You’re a small man in the machine. Everything is bigger than you. You’ve got no eyes, you’re just moulded plastic. Sorry. You’re tasked with doing something; you’re wearing a uniform. You know not what. Sorry.

The machine has tracks. The machine does not stop for long. You must keep up with the machine. Is it going to hurt someone? Really?

Are we serious about the machine? Is it okay, just a bit of fun? Is it safe? Is it safe? Is it safe?

Tom McNally - First draft

 Working title

You wait by the wreckage of the machine. We told you it was sophistication itself, the answer to all the problems, the hate. You look at its treads all clogged with sand and wonder.

You want to move but you can’t. You want to go home but you can’t. When the sun set and you heard the call you felt all your spirit ebbing away.

Some enemies are scattered not so far away. You stare at each other, unsure of what to do now. You could no more attack them now than you could make the machine work.

It begins to rain.

Word count: 102

Tom, your editor is:  Joshua Crisp

Okay, so they’re left in a sandbox or something, right? You probably want to try and keep some of the original voice from Paul’s work. He used shorter sentences, and punchy repeats.

You use the word ‘We’ and I’m really not sure about it. Keep the second person train rolling. “You were told”.

To really hammerhome the thema, you can exploit the loneliness of the soldiers. You can’t communicate. You can’t move, etc.

GOing through it. I think you can give yourself more room to work by cutting “We told you it was sophistication itself, the answer to all the problems, the hate.” - it doesn’t fit the tone, and I don’t know if those concepts can be grasped by our plastic army men. They’re simple ants with simple drives. FOcus there. They know only what they’ve been TOLD, what their JOB is and what their PHYSICAL feelings are. Cold, simple, short. More abrupt. E.g. “The sun set. You heard the call.” delete the extraneous.

It’s actually a really nice story, and I love the ending. I think it’s quite powerful. Tighten it for voice, call it Abandonment or something and it’s done :)

Tom McNally - final draft

Abandoned

You wait by the wreckage of the machine. It won’t move. You look at its treads all clogged with sand. Did it ever move?

You want to move but you can’t. You want to go but you can’t. When the sun set and you heard the call you felt your spirit ebbing away. Your comrades say nothing. Their spirit is gone too. You wait.

Far away, a bright window.

Some enemies are scattered nearby. You stare at each other. They are unreachable. You could no more attack them now than you could make the machine work again.

It begins to rain.

Word count: 101